


Dreamcatcher

by TheLexorcist



Category: Halloween Movies - All Media Types
Genre: Comfort, Cuddling, F/M, Female Reader, Fluff, Halloween (1978) - Freeform, Kissing, Michael Myers POV, Nightmares, No Smut, Reader is gentle, Scared!Michael, Third Person POV, Trust Issues, fem!reader - Freeform, he really likes you but not on the low, michael has nightmares, michael is my fave slasher, reader - Freeform, reader is a nurse, sam loomis - Freeform, she really likes him but on the low, the shape - Freeform, third person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 23:38:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17130869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLexorcist/pseuds/TheLexorcist
Summary: Michael Myers is a man of no emotion. But when Halloween is over and his hunts are sparse, he lies awake in fear of the demons who hunt him.





	Dreamcatcher

**Author's Note:**

> Total fluff bc I have this headcanon that Mikey would have some form of PTSD from Smith’s Grove. Just me? It’s okay. Also I made Reader a kind human, she really wants to help everyone’s favorite Shape.

Michael awoke with a start, his usually calm breathing transformed into heaving, ragged breaths. It was what she called nightmares.

These things didn’t start until he had escaped Smith’s Grove. Normally, he’d been so doped up that his ‘sleeps’ were more of him being knocked out rather than getting real rest. Michael couldn’t remember the last time he slept well.

Was he 6? Maybe. None of that mattered to him at the moment. He just wanted to get rid of the images that lingered in his mind.

That place. That awful, disgusting place. The screaming patient in the room next to him. The barking dog outside. The mocking words of the guards. The disgust in the nurse’s voice. And the smugness. The fucking nerve of Doctor Samuel Loomis.

Michael flinched at the idea of Loomis giving him orders. When to eat, when to sleep, when to go see the therapist.

‘Look at me, Michael.’ He would say. ‘Say something!’

Then he would get violent. Then the needle with the serum came. Then the... experiments. The psychological torture.

Michael growled and grabbed his head, desperately trying to rid himself of the dark thoughts clawing their way into his mind. It almost made him scream. Almost.

But if he screamed, she would wake up. The one who resides in the other room down the hall. The one who bought his home and kept him fed and sheltered and bathed and cared for.

She told him she worked with people like Michael, but explained that she wasn’t like his nurse. She stayed with her patients through all of their struggles. She told him about the little boy who tried to kill the family dog. And the teenage girls who had been starving themselves. And the 12-year-old girl who had failed three suicide attempts. She told him that she didn’t mind coming back and taking care of him. She told Michael that she liked spending time alone with him, that she thought of him as more than just a problem.

Michael decided she could stay, that she wasn’t a rotten human being. His knife wouldn’t pierce her chest, he wouldn’t risk destroying a bright thing in a disgusting world. She wasn’t a slut, she wasn’t a careless stain on society. She was... her.

She had seen Michael’s episodes before. Waking up in a pool of sweat, instinctively grabbing his knife to kill nothing, his fits of anger then he didn’t sleep enough. She knew how to calm him, even when she couldn’t get close to him.

When he grabbed his knife: ‘Calm down, Michael. Put the knife down on the table.’ He would. ‘Come here, it wasn’t real. You’re okay, I promise.’

When he was trying to block the sounds of the asylum from his mind: ‘It’s not real, Michael. They’re not coming to get you, they’re not here. I am, and I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.’

And on the rare occasion that she’d find him awake: ‘Michael.’ Her voice would sound tired. ‘I told you. If you’re afraid, come to my room. Don’t worry if you wake me up, just let me help you. You can trust me.’

Trust. Trust was something Michael lacked. He didn’t trust. The one thing even remotely trustworthy was his blade. She’s gotten him to the point that he takes his mask off for her without going entirely catatonic, which is further than anyone has gotten before.

‘See, Michael! You can do it.’ Then she’d touch his shoulder, or grab his hands. ‘Handsome.’ She’d murmur that last word. She thought Michael couldn’t quite make it out, but he did.

He pondered for a few moments in bed, standing and taking a towel from the floor to wipe his face. He’d go to her. Seek comfort in her for once. So, shirtless and groggy, Michael shuffled his way into her room.

His companion was sprawled out, snoring so softly that it almost pulled him back into sleep. He tilted his head and nudged her. She groaned and pulled her blanket tighter, settling back into her pillow. Michael nudged harder, making a soft grunting noise.

She mumbled incoherently and buried her face into her pillow. Michael huffed and decided to force his way onto the bed. As he did, he pressed against the girl and tucked his head under her chin.

She stirred this time, looking at her interruption with glazed eyes. Then she smiled. “Hi, Michael. What’s the matter, big guy?”

Michael didn’t say anything, he just whimpered quietly. She was warm and her skin was soft, she wasn’t wearing any pants, her legs tangled around his while she stoked his hair. He wondered if she felt that soft everywhere.

“A nightmare?” She asked. He nodded, wrapping his arm around her waist. Michael needed her as close as possible, she was the only thing that was keeping him grounded. The one thing that gave him a sliver of hope that he could get a little bit of sleep. “We all get them, Michael. I get them sometimes too.”

He nodded, listening to her comforting words as she played with his hair. God. She was his savior. She protected him from his demons and didn’t stop him from killing (though she didn’t approve of it). She ran like clockwork, and that fit perfectly into Michael’s obsessive routine. She left the house at 9am sharp, Michael followed her, watched her, stalked her. She ate lunch between 11am and 11:30am. Michael would leave her be to stalk more potential victims, then would return at 5pm when she would leave for home.

It bothered him a bit that he interrupted the routine on this night. He disrupted her sleep schedule, but, for some reason, she didn’t care.

“Think if you stay here that you’ll be able to sleep?” Michael untucked his head and stared into her sweet, gentle eyes. Their breaths collided and Michael took in her shape. The dim light from the street lamps outside casted gentle shadows on her face.

Michael’s hard exterior finally broke. He couldn’t restrain himself any longer, he had to feel all of her. Michael leaned closer and pressed his lips against hers. Finally.

A heartbeat went by before her mouth moved against his. He was right, she was soft. His fingers trailed down her body as hers cupped his neck. Her mouth opened, she slid her tongue into his mouth and let out a breathy moan as it slid against his. Michael tightened his hold on her waist.

Michael didn’t feel. He didn’t feel joy or happiness or, god forbid, love. The thought alone made him want to vomit. But the thought of her didn’t. The thought of her thrilled him, more than the drive to kill.

She pulled away ever so slightly and opened her eyes again. “Where’d you learn that?”

He shrugged. Michael figured she knew exactly where he’d learned that. She didn’t need an explanation nor was he going to give a verbal one to begin with.

She smiled and cupped his cheek, giving him a quick peck on the lips. “Why don’t we try going to sleep. I have the day off tomorrow, we can talk about us in the morning.”

Michael felt his face contort into worry. ‘Why? What is there to talk about? Was I not supposed to do that?’ he seemed to shout. His companion giggled.

“Only good things, big guy. Let’s go to sleep now.” Michael nodded and tucked his head back under her chin, closing his eyes as her fingers resumed their stroking. As he drifted away into the darkness, he pictured her face and a smile cracked across his lips, remembering the taste of her tongue on his.


End file.
